Fenric returned to his prince's manor beneath the indigo evening sky, the streetlamps flickering to life one by one like watchful eyes.
The guards at the gate straightened as he passed. He gave them nothing but silence.
This place—his so-called "estate"—was too quiet, too clean. A gift from the imperial coffers, but more like a forgotten corner of the chessboard where nothing important ever happened.
At least, until now.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he exhaled, shoulders loosening.
No servants came to greet him. He preferred it that way.
He climbed the staircase, boots soft against the velvet runner, until he reached the upper floor. His room—spacious, spartan, and silent—awaited.
He placed the Beast Egg gently on the small table beside the bed. The runes flickered faintly in response to his presence.
Then he sat down.
Straight-backed at the edge of the bed, eyes half-lidded, hands clasped loosely in his lap.
